When Summer Comes. Brenda Novak
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“You saw it.”
“But it happened so fast.”
“Just because a guy can lift weights doesn’t mean he can fight,” Levi said with a shrug.
“Where did you learn to fight?” She put the pellet gun aside. “In the military?”
“There’s no need for martial arts when you have a lethal weapon.”
She thought of Kyle and how rude he’d been earlier—and was glad he hadn’t pushed Levi too far. “You had to learn somewhere.”
He didn’t explain. “If you want me to leave instead of painting the barn, I’ll understand.”
“There’s no need for you to leave. They were the ones who got out of line, not you.”
“But as long as I’m here, they could come back.”
“They could come back, anyway. And it looks like I’ll be safer if you stay,” she added with a grin. “I doubt my pellet gun could’ve done what you just did.”
“Rifle could’ve handled them.”
She watched her dog lick Levi’s injured hand and wag his tail as if he’d just found a new hero. “I’d prefer he not have to.”
A dark spot was growing on Levi’s sleeve. “You’ve torn out some of your stitches.”
He glanced down. “It’ll be okay.”
“We can’t leave it like that.” She waved him forward. “Come on in.”
She applied a couple of butterfly Band-Aids to act in place of the torn stitches. Then she changed the dressing and got a blanket out of the linen closet.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she made a bed on the couch.
She was providing them with a little insurance that Denny and Powell wouldn’t be able to jump him while he was sleeping. “I think it’s better if you stay inside tonight.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I won’t if you’ll do me this favor,” she said.
* * *
It was late when Levi woke up. He could tell by the color of light streaming through the windows. The exhaustion of the past few days had caught up with him, but where was Callie? Was she still in bed?
He lay without moving, enjoying the peace and quiet while listening for her. At first, he heard nothing. But after several minutes, she whistled to her dog outside.
Yawning, he scratched his head, then winced at the pain caused by such a small action. Thanks to the miles he’d had to push his bike, the dogfight, the stitches, the lack of sleep and the confrontation with the two bodybuilders, he was banged up. Every muscle was sore. But it wasn’t the first time he’d ever woken up like this. When he’d lived at home, feeling as if he’d been hit by a truck had been a common occurrence.
Pain is weakness leaving the body.
How often had his father said that? And how many times had he made Levi prove it?
Unwilling to think of Leo and all his talk about becoming the best, he sat up and waited for his head to stop pounding before getting to his feet.
When he finally walked outside, Rifle came racing toward him. Levi couldn’t help tensing at the dog’s approach, but he’d lived with the threat of physical danger his whole life—if not in the ring, then at home, with a father whose hair-trigger temper could explode for almost no reason. Levi wasn’t about to let one incident with dogs make him cower in fear, especially because he’d always been a dog lover. After his mother took off with his sister, it was his dog who’d given him enough love to get him through the next ten years.
Fortunately, Rifle merely barked a hello. Then he circled, acting eager to lead the way to his master.
Levi motioned for the dog to start off. “Fine. Go.”
With another bark, Rifle loped toward the barn, but he didn’t stop at the entrance. He trotted through the middle and out the other side to where Callie was lying on the ground with a camera.
“You’re taking pictures of dirt?” Levi asked as he approached her.
Lowering her camera, she looked up at him. She was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white T-shirt top, which was no longer clean, due to all that scooting around. “See? I’ve found an anthill!”
The excitement in her voice surprised him. “An anthill.”
“Yeah.” A bead of sweat rolled from her temple as she smiled. “I’ve been getting some great shots.”
He indicated the camera. “This is your hobby?”
“My profession. I have a studio in town. Reflections by Callie. We do a lot of weddings. But lately I’ve been shooting nature.”
He recalled the impressive photograph hanging in the kitchen. “That spider by the table.”
“Is mine, yes.”
“It’s nice.”
She seemed gratified. “Thanks.”
“So how often do you go into your studio?”
“I used to go every day. But...I’m taking the summer off.”
“To photograph nature.”
“And to say goodbye.”
He studied her carefully. “To whom?”
Sitting up, she tilted her head so that the sun could hit her face. “To this place. It belonged to my grandparents before they died. I spent a lot of summer days and weekends here when I was growing up, have a lot of fond memories.”
“That’s why you’re living out here alone?”
“That’s right. Why?”
He hesitated to put what he was feeling into words. He sensed that something was wrong, something beyond having to sell a piece of property that had been in the family for years. But he didn’t really know Callie and could easily be mistaken. He hoped he was. As much as he was determined not to feel anything, he appreciated her kind heart. He’d never experienced much gentleness. Not until he met Behrukh.
Maybe that was why he’d been foolish enough to get involved with her. He’d returned to her father’s store again and again, to buy gum, candy, bottled water, anything he could think of. He’d never been with a woman before and his hormones were running rampant.
“Who’s taking care of the studio?” he asked. “Or did you close it for the summer?”
“We couldn’t miss bridal season. So I have an assistant—more like an apprentice, I guess—who’s handling things for me.”
“While you work out here, taking pictures of nature and getting the farm in shape.”
“Basically.”
She wasn’t wearing any makeup. He got the impression she’d climbed out of bed, pulled her hair up and headed outside. But he liked her this way. She looked fresh and dewy and soft.
Suddenly, he craved some of that softness. A moment of tenderness. A respite from the bitterness that had left his own heart so hard. It felt like forever since he’d lost himself inside a woman.
But the only woman he’d known in that way was dead because of him. So was the baby she carried—his baby.
He tried to steel himself against the memory he avoided more than any other, but nearly swooned beneath the vision that broke on his mind. Being around Callie made it almost impossible to forget what happened. Although she looked nothing like the woman he’d loved, the two had a similar spirit.
“Are you okay?” Callie’s voice was soft, practically a whisper.